


Insanium

by Vultarre



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Eventual fluff [IN CHAPTERS TO COME], Hannigram - Freeform, Hurt, Insanity, M/M, Mental Illness, This is just a WIP!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 18:41:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vultarre/pseuds/Vultarre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal offers to take Will to a lodge in Minnesota, away from the stresses and engulfing madness of the cell. Although, struggling through further episodes as he unravel's Hannibal's plans and pasts.<br/>/ Will only ever lead up to fluff, I don't do the whole smutty thing! Sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insanium

**Author's Note:**

> Please, be gentle as this is my first time writing a 'fanfic' of sorts. I know this chapter is short, please keep in mind the chapters onward will be longer! // <3   
> In this chapter, Hannibal gives the offer to Will to get away from the confinements of the cell, although Will is less optimistic about the idea.

 

 

He had never really been able to pin point the moment. The moment when he had ended up where he was now, in some cell, looked at like an animal--No, a monster.

He hadn't done it, right? No he couldn't have. No he was sure, it wasn't him at all. It was that other man. Doctor Lecter, Hannibal. His psychiatrist, his friend.  Or so he'd thought.  How could a friend have done this to him? Placed the hands over his eyes, so he could not see. Encased him in a veil of both madness and the delusion of friendship.  He didn't know how to think.  He was Will Graham, known for his skills in the field.  Or well, used to be. Now he was known to be mental, criminally insane. Unstable, even.  These were the thoughts of an unstable, innocent, broken man.

\- -

The torment of it all never left him; it almost drew a sad smile to his lips. Quite frankly, he had been framed. And the police wouldn't believe him, of course. After all, they don't believe the criminally insane.  If he were the childish type, he would have complained about how it was unfair, that they trust Jack, and not the word of their best agent. But then again, they believed he'd killed those girls, not to mention that horrible man he wouldn't dare speak the name of as to spare himself the headache.

But of course it would sound like he knew all along, of course. Even with the vivid delusions, or memories -He didn't know anymore. All this time in Baltimore was doing his head in.  With the vivid sights, the sounds, even the smell and taste of blood. He could see it, the flesh being torn, the skin pierced. The gush of warm, smooth blood.  The hushed sounds of breathing.

But it hadn't been him.

Not all him, at least.

 

Clenching his hands, his knuckles visibly pale. His teeth gritted as he tried to work out why, why this had happened. When had he been pushed too far, when he became this, this. Insane being.  He used to be so human; he used to think about what he would drink when he woke. Now he thought of what shade of grey the cell roof would be. Or see horrific sights of Hannibal Lecter doing the deeds he knew he did. He had been so close, to finding his source. His source of madness, he knew it. Then it hit him, the source. Of everything, Hannibal had never shared the results with anyone else; he had killed the man who ran his results, and gotten him to lie before that.  Hannibal had withheld every ounce of evidence that showed he was getting too close, too close to madness, to sheer insanity. Hannibal. That made him chuckle, it made his shoulders rise in a small ounce of amusement. Oh he was an idiot, blinded by friendship, he had never thought of it.

"Will." A voice brought him from his thoughts, sour but smooth. And eerily cool.

"Doctor Lecter." He replied, barely a murmur.

"I hear you haven't been well, to an extent." Hannibal quipped.

"To an extent." He chuckled drearily.  The edges of his lips remained in the beginnings of a smile, he turned his head; shifting in his chair to look at Lecter; whose face was sullen and withdrawn. As if his thoughts were elsewhere.  His lips in a pursed line, revealing no emotion.

"What do you want? Do you wish to examine me, try to unravel what's going on in my sadistic, brutal clockwork mind like every other visitor I've had." He spoke with a wavering tone, like someone was pressing a great weight against him. His voice strained and cracked as he continued. "Or do you wish to analyse me? Or maybe you came simply to insinuate the fact that I am here at all. Doctor Lecter."

"I am here on visiting rights, an act of friendship, one might say." Hannibal replied, moving too slowly sit. Hands on each knee, gaze being panned around the dreary area.

"Your friendly acts are unusual." He scoffed, his brows knitting as he grazed a hand over the now rough stubble of his chin, curls of his dark hair were somewhat longer as they draped against his face.  A few strands across his forehead as he stared at the man through the bars of his cell.

"I have spoken with Jack Crowford, Will." Hannibal started, still not looking directly at him.

"What of Jack, then." He rubbed his upper lip, sniffing sceptically.

"We have come to terms with some therapy, of sorts. Or we could call it bail conditions, if you would like to call them that." The reply came smoothly.

"I don't want to leave."

"Will."

"I'm not safe."

"You know that is most untrue-"

"You would know." He interrupted, silenced followed that. But he could have sworn he saw Hannibal's brow crease and the line of his lips tighten.

"It is on strict conditions, that you would be isolated. With just a guardian, someone who knows you. Knows your illness, knows your strength. And someone who can control you." Hannibal went on, regardless of the detectable tension his comment had caused.

 

"You mean someone like you."  He drawled, a sigh escaping his lips. His brows furrowed, his lips turned down into a frown as he licked them and tried to think straight.

"Why should I? Who says I can be helped, I'm so far gone." He stuttered a little on the 'Why.' His eyes closed now, his temples ached.

"You see, Will. You can stay here," Hannibal must have made a gesture; he could hear the swish of his jacket sleeves. "Or you could come; have a chance to remake yourself through therapy. And if it does not, you can return here at your wish. You can stay here in Baltimore. In this cell. If you wish to do so," Lecter finished.

It took him a few minutes before he even opened his eyes; he tried to imagine himself someplace nicer.  But the images of Hannibal and the stag returned, if he had to stay with Hannibal, surely the man would just kill him for knowing. "Where would this be?" He finally asked.

"Don't think of it too much, but somewhere isolated in Minnesota.” 

How could he not think too much of it? The images hit him like a wave. Abigail, blood, the crimes. And him.

"No." He mumbled. Fists clenched.

"It is not near anything of concern, Will." Hannibal reminded.

"No, I won't go to that place. Not with you. Not with anyone."  He couldn't, and Hannibal expected him to just get up and go with him as if he trusted him with his very life? No, not again.

Will if you would please just listen to what I am saying-" Hannibal began.

"Doctor Lecter, if you honestly expect me to follow you like a stray dog, think otherwise. I know, I know what you have done. And that is not a feeling I want to come near again." A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, and his breathing was more ragged. It felt horrible, being torn between who he had thought was a friend, who turned out to be the killer. "There's this sickening jolt I get whenever I know you're there, I can see you doing these things. I can see it, feel it. I can even smell it." He was losing it know, but remarkably, Hannibal's expression remained perfectly neutral, which was to be expected.

"Will if you are concerned for your own safety, I can assure you. No harm will come to you." Hannibal said with an edge of irritation, like this whole conversation was costing the man precious time.

 _Precious time for what?_   He thought.

"Hardly a concern, more a hypothesis." He mumbled idly.

Maybe going away from the cell would do him good, to get away from the looming grey walls.

Taking a shuddering breath in, he blinked a few times, allowing his clenched hands to relax as he sat back.

"Will I have to speak to Crawford?" He finally spoke, he didn't like the prospect of having to report back to the man.

"Not unless you desire to do so." Came Hannibal's intelligible response.

"Of course I don't desire to do so." He half chuckled, but it was a dreary sound. More or less defeated, he sighed.

"I suppose I don't really have a choice, Crawford would question me to no end if I declined your 'gracious' offer."

"Potentially, yes." Came the quiet reply.

"When do I 'pack my bags,' so to speak."

"Your things are already there, all you have to do is sign paperwork, as do I."

“Alright.” 


End file.
